


Romance & Justice

by megvad



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: (a shitty one too), Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Development, Character Study, F/F, F/M, Gen, I mean what isn't new, M/M, Minor Canonical Character(s), Plot, Prince Escalus is the principal, Probably update tags later, ROSALINE IS A CINNAMON ROLL, Shakespeare, Slow Burn, Tybalt's parents aren't around, Verona High School, aaaahhhh, benvolio is the only sane character, bunch of relationships that's gonna sort out eventually trust me on this one, friar lawrence and nurse are teachers, he's lit, jk, juliet is wicked smart, mercutio needs to chill, romeo and juliet - Freeform, romeo is a bit of a crybaby, tybalt kicks ass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-29 06:51:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10848702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megvad/pseuds/megvad
Summary: Verona High School.Juliet is a stranger when it comes to public schools; her parents have brought her up in a secluded, sheltered home, and have sent her to private schools despite their struggling financial situation. She's a tough girl, with apt training from her cousin, Tybalt, who just so happens to be a pretty feared kid at the school. But surpassing her strength comes her mind - she's unquestionably brilliant and wants to become the first lawyer in the family, despite her parents requests to settle down sooner. Friendship, romance...they're all concepts that she can't wrap her head around.Until she meets Romeo Montague.Romeo is part of the the most popular gang of students at school. Despite his family's high social status, they send him to a public school - he doesn't mind; he likes associating himself with a variety of people. He's a bit of an overreactor and very emotional. Did he mention a bit of a crybaby? Thank god for his cousin Benvolio and his best friend Mercutio - without their protection, Romeo wouldn't know what to do. But physical and emotional protection can only go so far, and when his grades fall, he's stuck.Until he meets Juliet Capulet.





	1. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first work, and I hope that it's enjoyable! Feel free to leave criticism in the comments; any feedback is tremendously helpful! Updates do not have a fixed time, but I hope that new chapters come out every week.

“Juliet?”

The shrill voice had cut through the cacophony of a Monday morning in the Capulet household. It was enough to make everyone pause for just a second, before the chaos ensued once again. The voice’s owner, a woman whose eyes bore as much disdain as they did vexation, ran around the kitchen, frantically calling the girl’s name. “Juliet!” she repeated, more urgency laced in her tone. “Girl, where are you?” She narrowly missed crashing into her nephew as she ascended the staircase, still crying out her daughter’s name. “Juliet? Juliet!” Every repetition was more pressing than the last.

Meanwhile, Juliet wasn’t bothered to answer.

Engrossed in a novel to ease her anxiety of the first day in a new school, the last thing she had hoped for was her mother to march into her room and fuss over everything. Oh well, it had never seemed that life was on her side, and that mothers were made to worry and complain. At first, she had debated whether it was worth her time to go down and ask her mother what was wrong. She was very much hoping to ignore the incessant chants and return to her book, but when the sound of footsteps came closer, she sighed in defeat. There was no way to hide, was there?

Juliet slipped  _ Tale of Two Cities  _ into her bag, before getting off her bed and opening the door to her room. The moment it swung open, her mother was expectantly waiting on the other side, arms folded sternly across her chest.

“Juliet!” she announced for the final time, exasperated. “How many times do I need to call for you to earn a response?”

A cheeky smile grew on her lips as she melodramatically sighed. “As many times as you must in order to yield the result,” she hummed. Her mother blinked in bewilderment and opened her mouth to protest at her daughter’s flowery language, when an expression of abhorrence overtook her face. Her eyes narrowed in spite and her jaw dropped in shock.

“You’re wearing... _ that  _ for the first day of junior high?” she gasped, and for a second Juliet was afraid she might have a heart attack. Her mother was more than just a  _ little  _ overbearing when it came to attire and presentation, in ways that were just as doting as they were controlling. The girl looked down at her clothes, and almost dreaded what her mother would say next.

The woman elicited a huff, following a groan in frustration and disappointment. “Why...oh,  _ why  _ can’t you look even a bit more…” Her mother trailed off, searching for the appropriate term. “...Elegant?”

Though Juliet couldn’t find anything wrong in a plaid button-down shirt accompanied by jeans, her mother certainly did. However, it was in this clothing that she felt most comfortable and at ease; the dresses her mother would cajole and coax her into wearing made her much more self-conscious. In this, she could easily blend in, something that she desperately wanted to do on the first day of a new school. But unable to will her tongue to form words of protest, she was about to resign into another stuffy frock when a new figure at the door caught her attention.

“Tybalt!” she nearly yelped, relieved to see her cousin. The raven-haired male gave her a slight nod of reassurance. “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now,” he declared, expectantly looking at his aunt for the approval to leave.

Her mother seemed ready to object, but she reconsidered. “Fine,” she sighed, a bit reluctant to give in. “You guys head on out. Have a good day, both of you.” She reached out her hands, hesitantly cupping Juliet’s cheeks, her eyes searching for approval to proceed. When her daughter gave a small smile, the woman pressed her lips to the girl’s forehead in a brief, but warm kiss. “I’m choosing what you wear tomorrow,” she joked, before Juliet escaped from her grasp and ran downstairs alongside her cousin.

“Thanks,” she softly muttered, and her gratefulness was received with a small smile, much to her delight. She felt her chest swell with pride at the small gesture; not many were lucky enough to get one from the righteously named ‘Prince of Cats’. 

“No problem.  _ Zia  _ is very picky, isn’t she?” Tybalt joked as the front door behind them. She nodded in response. 

“You would’ve thought  _ Nonna  _ would’ve been the picky one instead…” she mumbled, earning her a laugh. It was a very rare sound to hear from her normally hostile and aggressive cousin, but he’d always treated her differently. He’d give glares and threats to outsiders, but provided her smiles and encouragement. While he’d talk trash about strangers or the kids at school, he regarded her with kindness and brotherly protection. Honestly, Juliet didn’t know where she’d be without his steadfast, unwavering support. As the mellifluous sound drifted away, she realized she had plenty to ask the other one, despite their conversations the prior day.

 

_ “So...what’s so special about Verona High?” she grumbled while folding her clothes. Alongside her, Tybalt was helping in the same mundane task on one of the very few and precious days off from work. Though she insisted that he take some rest, as the dark circles under his eyes were becoming more prominent, he refused to heed her pleas. _

_ “It’s a...good place,” he mumbled in a monotone voice, but his hesitation was not hidden well enough. _

_ “That’s not the full truth, is it?” the blond girl sighed, now working on a pair of pants. _

_ Her cousin bit his lip, unsure of what to say. He finally gave up trying to refute her words; Juliet was a quick and sensible observer. “Fine, I’m not to thrilled about you going there.” _

_ She didn’t have to ask why; Verona High School wasn’t the same as her old private school in Mantua, the town over. For the longest time, Juliet had attended private schools no matter how expensive they were. It didn’t matter that her family was struggling to pay the bills - they wanted her to have the best education they could afford. _

_ In her opinion, however, Mantua was not a school they could afford. _

_ She could hear her father’s tired groans from his bedroom while he glanced over the rent. She could hear her parent’s hushed whispers of worry and concern after every school year, and their exhausted and helpless looks when they went to make payments for the upcoming year. It was brutal, but her parents pretended like the fees didn’t faze them. They attempted at keeping her blissfully unaware of their financial problems, but like any big secret, it eventually came out. _

_ Juliet, as selfish as it may have sounded, lacked any interest to go to a new school. She’d heard too many haunting rumors and stories about public schools and the people that went there, namely her cousin. _

_ “One kid brought a gun to school!” he had once told her in fourth grade. Juliet, at the time in 1st, was terrified of this notion. Tybalt’s further explanation had permanently scarred her: “He showed it to all of us during recess! You know - he was that kid who brought a cigarette once. Yeah, that guy. Anyways, we made him promise to shoot something, and-” _

_ He didn’t get a chance to finish, as she had run off crying to her mother, who promptly scolded the raven-haired boy for being so insensitive. He took the blame with a sly grin, still proud of his exploits. _

_ Juliet had often wondered why Tybalt didn’t go to Mantua with her when they were growing up, and though she would occasionally ask him, he would always change the topic. It was the same baffling response from her parents, and though she would’ve liked to ask her uncle and aunt, they weren’t really...ever there. _

_ “When will we see  _ Zia  _ and  _ Zio  _ again, ma?” she had once asked. Her mother froze and an unreadable expression overcame her face as she stared at the pot of soup she was stirring. The girl was afraid that she’d hit a nerve, before a weak smile dispelled that. “Not for a while,” she hummed, and Juliet begrudgingly accepted that answer. _

_ “Why won’t Tybalt come to Mantua with me, ma?” she had questioned while her mother was folding clothes. Her mother had bit her lip, a habit that occurred whenever she was pondering very deeply. “ _ Zia  _ and  _ Zio  _ said that going to Verona was fine.” _

_ “But Verona is a bad place!” she had protested, putting down her red crayon and ripping her eyes off of her coloring book. “Tybalt doesn’t like it!” She mother had haltered her folding, and retorted, “Since you’ve finally finished coloring, you can help me with the clothes.” That silenced Juliet. _

_ Tybalt, however, wasn’t as good as her mother when it came to hiding things. She had asked him the same questions, and his uncomfortableness was evident. His bottom lip would quiver, he would go pale, and make a quick exit out of the room. _

_ Even now, she had never got an answer to her questions. _

_ One question that was answered, however, was “Why do you keep sending me to private schools?”, to which the unanimous reply was, “You’re brilliant, Jule, and we want you to have the best education.” Juliet hadn’t ever found herself to be extraordinarily brilliant, but she was sharp and had a tendency to grasp concepts rapidly. In fact, her cousin consulted her for assistance in his homework, but even she’d have to admit that Tybalt wasn’t all that...bright. Intellectually bright, that is. He was street-smart beyond his years, and despite his lean figure, he could knock someone out twice his size. He played dirty and carried an assortment of weapons on him at all times, but that didn’t make Juliet reluctant to ask for his protection at times. She knew her cousin would never hurt her, and though arguments weren’t rare, they weren’t common, either. They got along very well, with silent admiration and a great deal of respect for one another. It was that bond that Juliet found solace in, when she felt like her matters couldn't be solved by her parents. _

 

“Listen, I want you to be careful,” the raven cautioned as they turned the corner, snapping Juliet out of her thoughts. “There are a lot of...colorful figures at this school.” The euphemism didn’t effectively hide his contempt, or the scowl that overcame him with that connotation.

“So...are they shady?”

“Sure, I guess. They’re just…’colorful’.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Eh?”

“If they’re shady, that means they’re black and white, not colorful.”

The groaning and delighted laughter could be heard from meters away.

“I swear to god, I’ll leave you right here,  _ Jule _ ,” he snapped, putting emphasis on her childish nickname.

“You wouldn’t do that,” she cheekily retorted. “After all, with all these  _ colorful  _ figures, I’m sure that-”

“You’re right, I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Tybalt’s bluntness shocked Juliet, rendering her speechless for a bit. Her cousin’s face was in every bit convincing and sincere, which wasn’t unusual; when her cousin said something, he in every way meant it.

“That’s very sweet but...but I’m not a kid anymore,” she sighed, though his overprotectiveness was touching.

“No, Juliet, it’s not that simple.” His graveness was unprecedented, and to an extent that she managed to halt. “There are too many people you shouldn’t get involved with - too many people you can’t trust.”

She weakly laughed, fear gaining a hold on her. “Oh, c-come on, Tybalt,” she stammered, and rolled her eyes. She put on a semblance of unperturbed calmness before continuing. “You’re exaggerating. I’m sure that not everyone is as bad as they seem, and-”

“The Montagues go to Verona.”

Oh.


	2. "It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romeo believes he's going through a mid-life crisis (although it's more like an eighth-life crisis) over a girl yet again.  
> Benvolio's pretty sure he's seen this scenario for the third time this month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! I got this part out one day late - sorry about that! I hope it's as good as the last one - though I'm having a few doubts myself.  
> Anyways, I'm sorry if this part seems shorter than the last!  
> On a side note - the Montagues' backstory will be much more drawn out and slowly paced compared the Capulets', because each chapter in the story varies perspectives and point of views. Since there are 3 Montagues and 2 Capulets, I was hoping to even out the pacing.

“Romeo? Romeo, please get out. We’ll be late if you don’t come out now.”  
The said boy, in his room, groaned in refusal and shifted around on his bed. “I’ll never be able to face anyone at school!” he wailed, burying his face in his pillow to muffle the distressed noises.  
Benvolio, on the other side of the door, sighed. He turned to his friend Mercutio with tired eyes. “He’s been moping about this ever since last night,” he muttered, evidently trying to keep his emotions under control. The brunette wasn’t one to lose his temper over trivial matters, and trying to get his melodramatic cousin out of his bedroom wouldn’t be the scenario that would cause him to snap. He took a deep breath, and knocked once again. “Please, Romeo. It’s been so long.”  
Mercutio pinched the bridge of his nose. He stood alongside the other, trying to coax the whining boy out of his room. “How much longer until we’re late?” he mumbled.  
Benvolio glanced at his watch, and commented, “Twenty - ah, wait, nineteen more minutes.”  
Without further hesitation, the blond banged his fist to the locked door. His eyes held a deep impatience, and almost a glint of vexation. “Romeo, if I’m late for the hundredth time, Principal Escalus will fucking call my parents, and they’re gonna kill me. So, for fuck’s sake, stop crying about Rosaline!” he snapped.  
“I don’t want to!” Romeo sobbed. He elicited a sharp yelp when the banging on his door commenced.  
“H-hey, Mercutio, calm down - I don’t want him to start crying again,” Benvolio softly ushered to his friend, a worried tone gripping his words.  
“Maybe the pretty boy deserves some harsh words,” he retorted, his fist meeting the wood once again to emit a low, echoing sound. A few maids popped their head around the corner to observe the ruckus, but quickly dismissed it as nothing more than a trivial fight upon seeing Mercutio.  
Benvolio bit his bottom lip and rested his hand on the other’s shoulder. “Merc, if you’re going to be late, then go ahead. Don’t get in trouble for us.”  
That statement caused the blond’s swing to halt midway. He chewed on his bottom lip, a small habit revealing that he was pondering deeply. “Don’t be stupid,” he finally huffed, his raised arm falling to his sides. “I wouldn’t leave you guys like that.”  
“Fifteen minutes until you’re late.”  
Mercutio’s eyes widened, and he turned to Benvolio. Panic was written all over his face, and he looked frantic. “Shit,” he spat, clenching his fists. He ran a hand through his dark hair, trying to make up his indecisive mind. “I need to go. This is the last time I’m abandoning you two, okay? Don’t come too late!” With that, he darted down the halls, leaving the brunette to smile slightly at his antics. Despite his normally bold and unsentimental attitude, Mercutio truly cared about his friends and held a sense of responsibility in taking care of them (when arguably, it was Benvolio, the eldest, doing most of the caring). His footsteps echoed through the villa, fading as he approached the door. When the front door was shut and the sounds were no longer audible, Benvolio turned back to the challenge at hand.  
“Romeo,” he repeated, his tone firm and even. “If you’re so distraught, then why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”  
“Because I’ve been humiliated!” he cried in evident distress. “Everyone knows what happened!”  
“I don’t.”  
The lack of response could only be interpreted as shocked silence. Benvolio inwardly smiled; he knew his cousin too well. Besides, that aforementioned statement wasn’t incorrect - he wasn’t big on social media, unlike Romeo, who’s eyes were constantly glued to his phone’s screen. He didn’t see the need to seek validation from people who were halfway across the world, but those opinions were subjective. He never spoke much about his personal thoughts, anyways. But if his younger cousin was going to sulk and grieve for hours on end about an insult on one of his posts, perhaps he should step in and-  
The door swung open, snapping him out of his thoughts.  
Before him was a pouting, red-eyed Romeo, his cheeks wet and his hair tangled in brown curls. His skin was an unhealthy tint of white, and the simplicity of his attire - jeans and a red tee-shirt, was almost unfathomable. He was one that took great care of his appearance, so anything that could’ve been more important than the prospect of strutting around in a leather jacket paired with clean khakis was something of concern. Benvolio smiled at him lightly with reassurance, but his younger cousin had already stormed back into his room, leaving the door open. “This has got to be the worst day of my life!” he sighed in evident disdain.  
“Is it Rosaline?”  
Romeo buried his face in his hands as he choked back a sob. Benvolio had to restrain a sigh; sometimes, the cousin he cared and fretted about so much was a little too dramatic. “There, there,” he hummed, placing a hand on the teary boy’s shoulder. “I’m sure it wasn’t that ba-”  
“She said she didn’t want to talk to me!”  
Benvolio blinked in surprise, though the rejection wasn’t unexpected. Rosaline had held a particular distaste for the Montague, no matter how romantic and flirtatious his advances were. Romeo, however, was absolutely enamoured by her, and it wasn’t hard to see why. With red locks that cascaded down to her back, pristine blue eyes, and a face full of energy and cheer, she was easily deemed a beautiful girl. Benvolio, unlike most others, didn’t find complete appeal in her; he had set his sights elsewhere. But his youngest cousin didn’t settle for the fact that it was mere physical attraction; somehow, in his mind, he had tricked himself into believing that what he had was love. And it wasn’t difficult to spot his mindless amorousness - he’d constantly search for her to adorn her with flowery words of love and chocolates. He may have come off a bit strong, but Romeo was not one to take criticism.  
...As shown by this recent outburst.  
“I-I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Benvolio consoled, though there was no conviction to his words. “I’m sure she wasn’t in the mood for-”  
“On social media, Benny! Everyone can see!”  
He was about to politely request that he wasn’t interrupted every five seconds, and to refrain from using that nickname, but once again, he was drawn to silence. Tackling Romeo’s problems was on an entirely different level of difficulty, and it was incredulous how the brunette hadn’t already snapped. Still, despite these moments of utter exasperation, his love for his cousin had no bounds. He had to remind himself that Romeo was still...just a child. Still didn’t know how the world worked. Still didn’t know how to respond to heartbreak or sadness. Romeo was still sheltered, still vulnerable.  
And it was Benvolio’s duty to protect him.  
It had been that way ever since they were children - his younger cousin was defenseless and was always begging for help. He’d become the unspoken target of teasing and bullying, only because a reaction was so easy to squirm out of him. Benvolio was always so protective of others, including his cousin. In such a way that Romeo became a victim, he’d become the silent bodyguard. His height dominated others of his age, giving him the advantage of earning respect and awe from onlookers. He’d never actually hurt anyone before, but his build provided enough capability to do so. As long as he was around, no one would dare poke fun of his younger cousin. It didn’t matter that they were from one of the wealthiest families around, it didn’t matter that Romeo was adored by everyone, it didn’t matter that Benvolio’s parents weren’t ever around.  
All that mattered was his younger cousin’s happiness, and it was something so precious that it surpassed his own desires.  
“Well, Mercutio has been turned down hundreds of times!” he commented. “And look at him - he still holds his head up high. Romeo, getting rejected by Rosaline won’t be the end of the world. There are so many other pretty women - you just haven’t met them yet, because you’ve been obsessed with Rosaline! I’m sure that there are plenty of other people just fantasizing about you!”  
Okay, it was poor word choice, but it had at least caused his younger cousin to grin slightly. Romeo playfully punched his elder cousin with one hand, while the other was used to wipe away the remaining tears lingering on his face. “You’re an idiot,” he laughed, but a thankful undertone was heard. It caused an equal smile to grow on Benvolio’s face.  
“Come on, then, we’re going to be late for school,” he pointed out, steering Romeo to look into a mirror. His cousin’s eyes widened in shock, and his jaw dropped open at the haphazard state he was in. “I look awful!” he exclaimed, examining his face like it wasn’t even his own. He brushed his fingers over his waxy skin and rubbed his eyes. Standing out from the surrounding swollen mess were his green irises, similar to Benvolio’s own pair. However, he’d always noticed that his cousin’s were much more lively and vigorous. While they attracted people by the cordial and playful demeanor they enhanced, they also revealed every bit of his intent. “How much time until we’re late?” he mused, his voice already being uplifted by a more tranquil tone. The brunette tried not to laugh; such passing affection was easily brushed aside. In a matching unperturbed mood, he gave his answer.  
“We already are.”


	3. "It was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tybalt, the always-brooding, gothic embodiment of teenage angst, walks his polar opposite to school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pfft how long has it been since I've updated? Far too long, and I'm really sorry about that! Life has been throwing a storm at me, but updates will be more frequent, hopefully! This chapter is pretty long, and I hope that's adequate compensation! Oh, and bonus points to anyone who can figure out why Gregory and Sampson are german.

“Do you want me to take you to the office?”

“No, I’ll figure it out.”

“Should I wait for you and bring you to your next class?”

“Please don’t.”

“Oh. Well, in any case, at least let me-”

His cousin sighed, exhausted at Tybalt’s overbearing requests. She turned around and held him by his arms, staring dead into his eyes. “Haven’t you caught on yet?” she joked, though her eyes held no humor. “I’m fine by myself.”

Tybalt took some time to digest that fact. His expression morphed from concern and worry, to denial, and finally submission. “I just...I don’t like the people here very much, alright? I doubt you’d like them, too.”

He didn’t have to look up to imagine Juliet’s amused look.

“Is that the excuse you’re going to use this time?”

“Wha-” The raven-haired boy snapped his head to face his jubilant younger cousin. “T-that’s not an excuse!”

“ _ Sure it isn’t _ .”

“You’re making me question  _ why  _ I wanted to protect you in the first pl-”

He clasped a hand over his mouth as he let those last few words slip out, resulting in the blonde’s beam to grow. She elicited a chortle of triumph and folded her arms across her chest. With a final “hmph” of all the conceited superiority she could mock, she was finally reduced to laughter. Juliet whacked her cousin on his back, and he was silently reminded how strong she could be.

Tybalt’s face burned in mortification, and he averted his eyes while gritting his teeth. Somehow, the girl was  _ always  _ able to draw out such answers from him. As frustrating as it got at times, it was at times like these where he couldn’t help but feel immensely proud to call her his relative.

But of course, she didn’t need anything else to boost her ego.

“Yeah, yeah, keep laughing  _ blondie _ ,” he spat.

“Sure thing,  _ emo _ .”

“The only thing that keeps me from breaking you in half is that I don’t want two of you running around.”

“Hot Topic just called - they want their entire teenager’s department back.”

“Why don’t you slip into something more comfortable? Like a coma?”

“You really need to stop going to Sephora  _ just  _ for eyeliner - you’ll need a lot more to hide your face.”

“I’m running out of time - could you just call yourself an idiot for me?”

“The only thing that could save your outfit would be an invisibility cloak.”

“You’re as dense as manure and only half as useful.”

“ Your social life is about as exciting as the derivatives of e^x .”

Failing to adhere to his obstinacy, Tybalt burst out laughing as he slung an arm around the other. God forbid that he’d ever have to admit it, but Juliet was definitely a genius. Smarter than him, at all odds. Book smarts? Oh yes. Street smarts? A bit shaky, but he had prepared her well enough.

The two of them marched into the school building, and he could feel his cousin tense up. Stealing a glance, he caught her attempting to hide her growing apprehension, slowly becoming more evident as her pace dropped. Tybalt’s smile broadened as he came up with the perfect refute to her original cockiness, but instead chose he patted her back reassuringly. As insufferable as Juliet could get, it was understandable how nervous one would get in such a completely different surrounding. Besides, his (slightly) exaggerated tales about school possibly didn’t ease her much.

“You’ll be  _ fine _ , kiddo,” he hummed, allowing his tone to become much softer and considerate. “You’re smarter than anyone here, and no one’ll mess with you once they find out that the most fear kid in the junior year is your cousin.”

Juliet, also allowing her pride to be abstained, maintained a small smile of thankfulness. “I-I know,” she admitted, looking to the ground. “Thanks. It’s just…”

“You don’t know if people will accept you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise on how quickly he could pick that up, but she nodded, nevertheless.

The raven-haired boy sighed, gazing at the sea of faces moving hurriedly past him. These were people he recognized for years, and they certainly posed no threat to him. How his cousin felt, however, eluded his comprehension. Still, he hoped to do his best to assuage those fears.

With a sigh, he began, “Well, I’m not going to make any promises, considering that you  _ are  _ the greatest brat in the world…”

Okay, he deserved that shoulder punch.

“...But you’re a good kid, all the same. That is, underneath all those layers of crudeness and repulsive attitude…”

And yes, he deserved that side shove as well.

“...No one’s gonna hate you. It might take some time to make friends, sure, but it won’t be impossible. And hey, if you wanna, you can hang with me, Sampson, and Gregory during lunch.”

“... _ Sampson, Gregory, and me. _ ”

Alright, she  _ deserved  _ that stomp on her foot.

“Gosh, you really are a brat. Now I’m  _ really  _ doubting if you’ll make friends.”

To his pleasant surprise, Juliet refrained from attacking him. With an unusually acquiescent voice that she rarely sported, she mumbled, “You guys wouldn’t mind?”

“Oh come on, those two love you! N-not in  _ that  _ way, of course. You’re like a sibling to them!”

His younger cousin resigned to docile wordlessness, an occurrence that was extremely rare. Normally, she’d occupy herself with a book or engage in some petty debate (which, sadly, she always won). Deciding to enjoy the girl’s pliancy, he chose not to oppose her. 

Then, almost unnoticeably, she tugged the sleeve of his shirt. An embarrassed blush painting her features, she requested, nearly inaudible, “Could I take you up on your offer to lead me to the office?”

Although the prospect of maiming the other’s pride was far too tantalizing, Tybalt decided otherwise. “Sure thing, kiddo.”

His cousin’s arm swinging around his shoulders as a response was an adequate “thank you”.

The surrounding classmates’ stupefied gazes did not go unnoticed. The raven-haired male was used to the usual fearful glances, but these ones held a certain disbelief that he wasn’t quite used to. In their defense, however, he wasn’t sure how convinced he’d be if the brute that terrorized the school came in with an arm around a new girl.

He still felt a bit guilty, however - Juliet probably wasn’t holding up too well with all this unnecessary attention. A glance in her direction proved him otherwise; the blonde was indignantly shooting back menacing looks to those who gaped for too long. The sight became even more jocular when he noticed how hard she was trying to create an impression of intimidation. It may have been working for some, but to Tybalt, he could barely contain his laughter. Oh, the things he did to protect his younger cousin.

They made their way to the principal’s office without much further hassle, but as they approached the entrance, the girl halted. Tybalt, intrigued at the sudden loss of confidence, pausing alongside her. “You ready to go in?”

“I...I’d like to go inside myself,” she mumbled, an unreadable look overcoming her features.

The boy faced her, astonished. Though he should’ve been more respectful of her independence and privacy, he couldn’t help the slight feeling of abandonment nag his mind.

Yes,  _ abandonment. _

He tried to suppress those thoughts. No, not again. He wouldn’t bring up those horrible notions, and risk losing months of progress and developing his composure in front of everyone. 

“I-I understand,” he stammered, hoping to hide his feelings. Unfortunately for him, Juliet read him as easily as he read her. Her expression softened, and unprecedentedly, hugged him.

Tybalt felt himself jump, taking a moment to asses what exactly was happening. Realizing that she’d embraced him, he lit up. How long had it been since she’d hugged him? Her affection was doled out with restraint, making these slight actions all the more valuable.

Just like he knew how to cheer her up, she knew how to cheer him up.

“I just...wanna start by myself, you know?” she whispered, resting her forehead on his shoulder. “The year of my new independence should start... _ independently _ , yeah?”

He ruffled her hair slightly, all negative emotions dissipating. “Yeah, I get it. If anything happens, tell me, alright?”

She nodded, her blue eyes twinkling with newfound excitement from his reinforcement. “Gotcha. See ya later,  _ emo. _ ”

“Don’t die,  _ blondie _ .”

With that, he turned around and marched through the hallway. First class - literature. He groaned slightly at that reminder, vexed. He was in no mood to discussion the symbolism residing in the subtext of some outdated story or analyzing a dead person’s long-winded tragedy. It had never appealed to him anyways - what was the use in learning all of this when it failed to have any real application on life? He doubted that the school board ever understood what they were cramming their minds with. But of course, the uselessness of the class wasn’t the only thing that made it so unbearable. 

A Montague rat was stuck in his class.

He strolled into the room, not even sparing the clock a second glance. Mr. Lawrence certainly wasn’t known for his punctuality, so why shouldn’t Tybalt do the same? His ominous glare returned, instilling the fear he was best known in all his classmates.

That is, except for two.

“ _ Ciao,  _ Tybalt!” a voice shot out. Without even having to look up, he could distinctly tell who it belonged to; no one else in the class possessed such an vivacious, buoyant tone on a Monday.

“Sampson,” he addressed, pulling his gaze from his feet to look straight ahead. Sure enough, the blond was beaming at him, his hazel eyes glimmering with pride. That crooked and yet genuine smile was reserved for only his greatest accomplishments, and apparently, drawing Tybalt’s attention seemed enough of a feat to celebrate. Next to him sat Gregory, acknowledging his presence with a polite smile and nod. The brunette was definitely the more mellow one of the two, and kept a level head whenever Sampson went a bit too far. His reservedness was amicable, especially to someone who wasn’t particularly fond of blabbering, like the raven-haired male himself.

Sampson jumped off of the table he was sitting on and rushed over to Tybalt. “Yo, man, how was my italian?”

“Dreadful,” he answered, accompanied by a roll of the eyes. “You’re adding a German accent on  _ every damn syllable _ .”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

The blond just huffed and folded his arms across his chest. Goodness, dealing with him was like dealing with a male Juliet. Thankfully, he wasn’t half as smart, nor could he hold grudges as long as she did.

Sampson and Gregory had been close family friends of his while growing up. From what he knew, they had come all the way from Germany - and that wasn’t even half of the story. Apparently, Gregory was an illegitimate child that had been forced to live with his single mother when his father wanted nothing to do with him. After his mother had fled from being convicted of money laundering, he narrowly escaped falling into the care system by living with his closest friend, Sampson. And in some dramatic escapade that he failed to comprehend, Gregory and Sampson, along with the latter’s parents, had moved into the house adjacent to the Capulet’s. Then again, all that information was gleaned from the midnight gossip his aunt and uncle had shared when they thought the children were asleep, so its infallibility was doubted. 

Having very few boys his age (at the vital years of 10) in the neighbourhood at the time, needless to say, they’d become the closest of friends. Juliet had also managed to wriggle her way into their small group as well, but often kept her distance from the boys in preference to her own best friends. Tybalt would never say this aloud, but the duo were as close to him as family. Frequent sleepovers and constantly hanging out made them one another’s confidante and advisor in every matter. Hell, even as Tybalt’s reputation worsened and he became the most despised student in the school, they had stuck by him.

But sappy, emotional stories weren’t really his thing. 

“Sampson thinks that learning a Romanic language would make him more popular with the women,” Gregory teased.

“Hey, there’s a reason why these languages are so  _ romantic _ ,” the blond proudly interjected.

“Why can’t you focus on getting your homework done just as much as you focus on getting girls?”

“Because I don’t take anyone’s garbage.”

With a smirk, Gregory added, “No, then we’d be garbagemen.”

“What I mean is that if they piss us off, we should pull out our secret weapon.”

“Maybe you should focus on pulling yourself out of trouble.”

“Come on man, I hit hard when I’m angry.”

“But it’s hard to make you angry.”

These exchanges of jokes were this duo’s speciality, and sources of great entertainment for Tybalt. Juliet certainly ranked high, sure, but Gregory and Sampson were unrivaled in the competition for sarcasm.

“One of those dogs from the Montague house is enough to make me angry,” Sampson growled, shooting a quick glance at Abram and another classmate, engaged in their own conversation. Gregory turned around to catch a glimpse of them, his expression curling to repulsion.

For a second, it seemed that the brunette was about to agree, before a small smile curled on his lips. “Angry enough to run away,” he completed. “You won’t stand and fight.”

“It’s true! If I pass one of them on the street, I’ll take the side closer to the wall and let him walk in the gutter.”

“Really? Only weaklings get pushed up against the wall.”

“You’re right,” the blond concluded, not missing a beat. “That’s why women are pushed up against the wall - they’re weak. So I’ll push the Montague men into the gutter and the women to the wall.”

Gregory looked progressively uncomfortable with how the conversation was proceeding. “Listen, man, chill. It’s just a petty fight between-”

“It’s no petty fight! I’ll fight every Montague men in this damn city, but I’ll be nice to the woman - I’ll cut off their heads,” he declared, raising his voice loud enough to attract the entire class’s attention.

“...Cut off their heads? Their...uh…’maidenheads’?”

“Take it as you will.”

By this point, Sampson’s voice had risen to a volume that he was almost thundering out his responses. Everyone’s eyes fell onto him, including those of their enemies. Gregory, deciding to add fuel to the flame, mused, “Look! Those Montagues you were talking about are right in front of us! Why don’t you display that ‘secret weapon of yours’?”

Sampson’s devious smirk grew, his demeanor shifting from docile to challenging. He faced Abraham, advancing with a baleful posture. “I’m ready to fight, and I’ll back you up.”

The Montague, normally a distant and silent student, mocked the blond’s expression, earning a supportive laugh from the person he was previously conversing with. Abraham, taciturn or not, had taken a few years of judo, as the rumors went. He wasn’t an opponent anyone could win against, and Gregory had realized that a bit too late. His eyes widened, and he immediately tried to hush Sampson.

“How do you plan to back me up?” he urgently whispered, pulling the other back. “By turning around and running?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“How can I not be?”

“Listen, here’s the plan,” Sampson began, his voice dropping to an equal whisper. “Let’s not get in trouble for starting a fight. Let  _ them  _ start a fight, and we can say that we were just...defending ourselves!”

“You’re a massive idiot. We can just frown at them, and let them react however they want.”

“You mean however they  _ dare _ . And I’ve got a much better idea.” Before he could be stopped, the blond proudly bit his thumb. An act originating from the beginning of high school, most students used it as an expression of disrespect when sticking up the middle finger on school grounds was punishable by a week of detention. Gregory was already regretting ever prompting this outburst, and Abraham had already caught on.

“Oi, are you biting your thumb at us?” he taunted, getting out of his seat.

“I’m biting my thumb,” Sampson indignantly responded.

“But is it at us?”

Aside to Gregory, the blond whispered, “Yo, are the school rules on my side if I say ‘yes’?”

“No.”

Turning back to the Montague, the Capulet replied, “Nope, I’m not biting my thumb at  _ you.  _ I’m...uh...just biting my thumb.”

“Hey, are you trying start a fight?” Gregory cried out, though it seemed more directed to Abraham than his friend.

“Start a fight? Me?” Abraham joked, and shook his head. 

“Oh, but if you are,” Sampson quickly interjected. “I’m up for it. After all, I’m just as good as you.”

“But not any better.”

“Actually, I’m a hell lot better than you’ve ever dreamed to be.”

“What a liar.”

“If you’re so confident, why don’t we go right now?” Sampson cracked his knuckles, and Tybalt was regretting not having brought popcorn. “Gregory, you remember your knock-out blow, right?”

Before anyone had the chance to respond, the person they least expected to come barging in had darted into the classroom, panting. “Shut up, all of you! Do you really want to get sent to principal's office?” he blurted out, recovering his breath. Tybalt’s rancor rose dramatically, and he didn’t have to turn around the identify the person he despised the most.

Benvolio Montague.


	4. "It was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercutio decides to challenge fate and come to school early, only to have even that ambition swerve off-course when he encounters a stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo I'm still kicking

Mercutio could’ve sobbed with joy.

There he was, in all his glory, a full 10 minutes early to school. He quickly decided that there was nothing better than the feeling of narrowly escaping a call home to his parents by his uncle. That, and being able to stick it up to Paris, who’d been getting away with his insults for much longer than he prefered.

He proudly burst through the school doors, strolling through the hallways with his newfound pomp and vigor. Ha!  _ Early _ ! He supposed the meaning of the world could be allowed some liberty in his terminology. It was equivalent to the 10-minute gap between him and detention he’d finally achieved. It was the bragging right he had that honestly wasn’t supposed to be a bragging right.

But he’d take what he could get.

In hindsight, the smart decision would have been to simply parade onto his next class and remain smugly seated there until attendance was taken. But of course, like any victory Mercutio boasted of, complete satisfaction could not be achieved without rubbing it into someone else’s face.

Even just  _ a little. _

He began to dart down the hall, familiar with the shortcuts and pathways that would lead him to the principal’s office. He’d admit, it was strange to be going there out of his own free will. He was sure his uncle would be shocked too, considering he’d done nothing to deserve his 18th detention and 4th uncle-to-nephew talk. Mercutio dodged and slid past the crowds of people loitering in the hallway before the bell rang, greeting a few familiar faces with a proud grin and a thumbs up.

It didn’t take long for him to get there. He was part of the school’s track team during freshman year for a reason. His dash slowed to a jog as he passed the office’s door and forced a smile in response to the secretary’s stupefied look. Mercutio was about to declare his presence loudly in front of his uncle’s office before jumping in, had it not been for two key factors - one, the door was locked, and two, there was someone else waiting there.

The stranger had positioned herself to tilt slightly, as to rest her back against the door’s metal frame. Her sight was locked onto the direct opposing wall, however. She appeared to be fixated on a poster that would’ve been impossible to read from her standpoint.

There was no particular giddiness or disdain Mercutio could infer from her expression. He would’ve dismissed it as a mindless gaze if not for the intensity in her eyes. As he got closer, he could spot the distinct features: arched eyebrows, slightly narrowed eyes, and stiffened face. Yep, the girl was looking for something - something to  _ occupy _ herself with. And intently, too. How this girl made a such a seemingly brainless search for a distraction so intense was beyond him. 

“Is it locked?” he asked as he strode up right next to the girl. He was facing the door, but by the shuffle he heard right next to him, Mercutio could sense he’d startled her. He peeked out from the corner of his eye and watched her adjust her stance with a jump.

“I-it’s not,” she managed, straightening her posture and pushing her shoulders back. “But I...I think the principal is talking to someone.”

“Yeah? Talking to someone?” Mercutio echoed. “The day hasn’t even started, and someone besides me is in trouble.”

The girl lacked any response. He guessed that she hadn’t heard of his notorious exploits, odd as that concept was.

In an outlandish attempt to loosen the girl’s uptight behavior, he leaned forward and rested his ear onto the door, pretending to eavesdrop. Although he paid little focus to the conversation, he could hear some murmuring. His attention was trained on the other’s reaction instead. To his satisfaction, she cracked a smile.

“What are you doing?” she giggled, shaking her head.

“Nothing. It’s just weird for him to have his door closed.”

“It might be a formal meeting - don’t act so sneaky!”

“ _ Formal  _ my ass,” he huffed, placing his hands on door for support. “My uncle’s probably doing some shady shit back there.”

“...What?”

“I swear to god, he’s lacing his coffee with something. No one can function on 5 hours of sleep everyday and still act completely normal.”

“No, not that - you mentioned something about an uncle.”

Mercutio was somewhat baffled by her sudden uneasy tone. “Yeah, he’s in there.”

“...Talking to the principal?”

He didn’t mean to snort, or for that to abruptly descend into laughter, but did so all the same. It was just so  _ amusing  _ to find someone so clueless as her. Sure, it wasn’t like it was compulsory for  _ everyone  _ to know about his relatives, but he’d assumed the rumors had spread far enough. He looked back up at her, only to be met with utmost sincerity on her bewildered but beaming face.

And suddenly, he considered that he may have been dealing with an unsuspecting new student.

“No,” he managed after his recovery. “Why would to principal want to talk to himself?”

The girl blinked before her jaw dropped. “Wait, you don’t mean-”

Mercutio didn’t have to say anything; the stupid grin he was trying to suppress conveyed enough.

“Whoa,” she whispered, her eyes widening. The humor the girl wore dissipated too quickly. She said nothing for some time, but merely stared at him, stupefied. A few more seconds ticked by, with her expression not changing in the slightest. It was as if her face immediately fell numb.

He was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable by the extent of her disbelief. Was it really that astonishing? He’d revealed that fact numerous times before to others, and was usually met with a stunned silence that preceded a few teasing remarks and laughter. The revelation was supposed to be ironic, not tremendously groundbreaking or worrisome.

Mercutio subconsciously mimicked her look, and it was only when his smile completely evaporated did she snap out of it.

“A-ah, sorry,” she stammered, her line of sight lowering from his eyes to her feet. Her nose twitched, and seemingly by habit, she brought her hand up to cover it. “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s fine,” he said. Honestly, it was; he was relieved just to have her talking again. It was far better than staring at him as if he were animal. Talking signified that she at least saw him as a person. “Not many people do.”

“I mean, like, most of the students who are related to the principal are…usually stuck-up,” she amended. “F-from what I’ve seen, at least.”

Mercutio was back to sniggering. The reaction to laugh felt instinctive to him, no matter the circumstance. He was always  _ compelled  _ to, anyways. Nothing felt quite right to him without having some entertainment and light-heartedness involved. “Oh trust me, we’ve got one asshole  _ exactly  _ like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, my cousin. He’s Escalus’s other nephew, besides yours truly.”

“Jeez, I only thought people like that existed in private schools…”

“It sounds like you speak from experience.”

“Oh my  _ god,  _ you don’t even know!” She nodded so fervently that strands of her blonde hair fell onto her face. Instead of tucking it back all daintily, though, she opted to run her hand through her hair and push it back. How natural the tomboyish gesture appeared piqued his interest.

“There was this one snotty kid,” she began, visibly getting excited. “Absolute jerk. He made life at Mantua-”

“You mean the school or the city?”

“The school.”

Mercutio attempted an impressed whistle. He’d never mastered the art of it as quickly as those who surrounded him had, and ultimately, he decided it wasn’t worth his time. Thankfully, an imitation of a high pitched sound was achieved. “Pretty fancy, huh?”

“...I guess.” The enthusiasm she was sporting only moments ago deflated.

“So what’s someone from there doing  _ here _ , in Verona?” As soon as those words slipped out, Mercutio regretted it. The abruptly meek look on her face reinforced his doubts in the choice of words; the girl was clearly uncomfortable with the matter and he’d accidentally implied that he didn’t want her there. He was inclined to apologize, but found himself beaten to the response.

“First day,” she softly answered. “Mantua sorta...dropped out of the budget.”

“Oh shit. I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

The girl sighed. “It’s fine. It’s one of those things you’ve gotta accept and move on, right?”

“That’s...really kickass of you.”

The smile returned to her face. “Do you  _ have  _ to curse in every sentence?”

Mercutio shrugged. “It puts the point across with more than enough intensity.”

“Right, but  _ every  _ sentence?”

“It’s hard to stop once you start. You act as if you’ve never said anything like it before.”

“It’s not that I  _ haven’t _ ,” she insisted with the same conviction an 8-year old would exert to defend their lie. “It’s just discouraged at home and school. My, uh, previous school.”

“Well, you’re neither at home nor Mantua now. So, to commemorate the event, swear!”

Her body began to convulse in smothered laughter. She shook her head and pressed her hand against her eyes. “You’re  _ ridiculous _ ,” she sighed before her giggling bubbled over.

“I’m serious!” he protested, intending to sound as grave as possible but failing. He was in no way immune to the contagious disease that was laughter.

“Okay, okay,” she conceded. The girl inhaled, and with a melodramatic flourish of her hands, she enunciated, “My cousin can sometimes be a dick.”

“There we go!” he cheered, lightly punching the air.

She beamed, astounded by his enthusiasm. “You’re right, it  _ does  _ put across the point,” the girl marveled. “More than adequately.”

“What did I say? I’m right! Always am.”

“But I still don’t get it entirely.”

“Hm?”

“Like, I get it - it’s nice to do something badass” - her smile involuntarily broadened - “all the time, but doesn’t it become…like…a bad habit? Substituting something vulgar when you could use something nicer?”

“Becoming a habit? Yeah, that’s true. But a bad one? I don’t think so.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stood up straighter. “I think it’s better to desensitize words that don’t hold any value, you know? Like, every curse word has a nicer counterpart. So, really, they’re nothing to be afraid of, yeah?” Mercutio suddenly dropped his arms and began to gesticulate with his hands while he searched for words. “But, um, every word is powerful. That’s what makes language so nice! You can stress certain words and make them have a bigger impact. Different things have different connotations to different people. Like, like - there! Right now! I used different three times, yeah? So you must’ve heard it. And you’re probably thinking ‘Oh, different means not alike and no word, person, or concept is the same’. But isn’t that amazing?” 

The edge in his voice as he progressed only escalated. “How huge is that idea? That everything can’t and won’t be the same.  _ Ever _ . And...words like that - like ‘different’ or ‘same’ - they hold such a tremendous meaning. But you didn’t flinch when I said it, right? You didn’t hush me or try and protest. You didn’t think that there was anything wrong in saying the word ‘different’. Because we, as a society, use it so much! For mundane things! So technically, in day-to-day conversations, the word loses a lot of its worth. Nod if you’re with me.”

She did.

“Okay, cool. So, like, if I use a curse word - fuck - I’m implying that…”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

“See? See - right there! You don’t want me to talk about sex or anything because we’re so hypersensitive to it! We don’t publically use it, and therefore, when we  _ do _ , it’s treated like something big. It’s so unused that it becomes valuable. Like a….a second-hand chair. The less used it is, the higher the price. So, the word fuck has literally no significant meaning or power over our lives, but we act like it does. ‘Don’t say it! It’s a bad word’. What classifies a word as bad? Is it because we associate it with adult topics like sex? With stuff kids won’t and shouldn’t understand because they’re too naive and don’t have the maturity to grasp it? In the first place, why are we looking down on kids that way? We were all small once, and I’m 100 percent sure those little brats have way more tolerance and acceptance of people than adults do. Wait, wait, back to the topic. So if we’re demonizing sex and stuff, then should we demonize racism? Yeah, I know it’s awful and repulsive, but why isn’t the  _ word  _ itself considered to be bad? While we’re at it, let’s demonize depression, anxiety, and all mental disorders! You know, because kids don’t understand it. Hooray! Instead of confronting the issues in society and trying to fix them, help others, and encourage unity, let’s be cowards and pretend they don’t exist by adding names to those problems! While we’re at it, let’s make those words taboo and refuse to even discuss them, thereby giving them undeserved power. Words have influence and strength,  _ yes _ , I agree, but these are the wrong ones we’re empowering. We’re always on and on about eliminating taboo within society, but how can we do that if we refuse to talk about it?”

“...Whoa.”

Mercutio blinked, momentarily forgetting the entire situation. He turned to face the awestruck girl. “...That got out of hand,” he sheepishly commented. “Sorry. That must’ve an earful.”

“No, no, it’s not that,” she insisted, a bit breathless. She didn’t say anything for a few seconds, simply staring at him. There was a spark of admiration he caught that danced through her eyes. He’d be lying if he said that it didn’t delight him. “It’s just...that was super impressive.”

“Really?”

“Of course!” she suddenly cried out, breaking out of her daze. “You were really into it! Hell, even  _ I  _ was getting riled up.” The girl was near bouncing, sharing his zeal. “You were so passionate about it! Even shaking! Are you on the debate team or something?”

“ _You’re_ _flattering me_.”

“That kind of speech  _ deserves  _ some credit.”

“You don’t think that it’s controversial or anything?”

“Oh, I didn’t say that,” she hummed, imitating condescension. “You’ll have hundreds of people that’ll disagree. But you’re outspoken. And isn’t that the nice this about debating? To learn other people’s viewpoints and share your own?”

“I mean, there’s always  _ some  _ satisfaction in proving yourself right.”

“Now that’s the  _ best  _ part.”

Before Mercutio had the chance to retort something witty, realization struck him. He spun around to check the time on the clock. There, hanging up on the wall, he met his doom.

8:25

“I’m late,” was his dumbfounded response. He wasn’t one to state the obvious, but somehow saying the fact made it concrete and easier to digest.

It didn’t help the impact, however.

“Fuck!” he cried out, garnering him an aghast and disapproving look from the secretary (how long had she been there?). His chest tightened and his stomach churned. How did he, for the seemingly hundredth time, manage to get delayed? Everything, for once, had worked in his favor! He didn’t regret talking to the girl, sure, but he didn’t intend to lose the one chance he had at redemption.

And god forbid Escalus to call his parents.

“Listen,” he began, slowly backing up towards the entrance from which he burst through initially. “I...I  _ really gotta get going _ .”

“Oh. Uh...sure,” she nodded. Her eyes were drawn to the clock, before she cracked a smile and asked, “Late?”

“Like any other day.”

She bit her lip, evidently a little guilty for holding him up. Instead of apologizing, though, she offered, “Just... tell them you were showing the new girl around. I’ll vouch for you.”

Mercutio’s face lit up, causing her to do the same. “ _ You _ . I like you.”

She reciprocated. “Anytime, uh…” The girl cocked her head.

“Call me Merc.” He pointed finger guns at her and winked. “It was a pleasure showing you around, new girl.”

“Oh, it’s...uh...Juliet.”

“Juliet,” he repeated, before turning around. “I won’t forget it!” With that, he waved over his shoulder and put the new-found adrenaline to proper use - sprinting down the suddenly empty hallways He envisioned the nonplussed look his teacher would give him, the chuckles of the other students, and how dumbfounded they’d be to hear of the reckless Mercutio being entrusted to such a task of introducing the new student to her surroundings. He wasn’t a big fan of using scapegoats, he’d admit. If someone was in trouble, it was up to them to take full responsibility. However, he’d force his conscience to waver for just this once.

Mercutio firmly decided that if he ever ran into her again, he’d have to pay her back. Maybe he’d hear  _ her _ rant. Juliet had been an exceptional listener during his part.

And who would turn down a chance to learn more about such an interesting character?


End file.
